Darkness
by ToriM1988
Summary: Ryan wakes up in a hospital with no recollection of how he got there. This story takes place after the season 2 finale. This story contains language, drug use, and possibly some sexual content (may be raised to M later).
1. Chapter 1 - Darkness

**Hello fellow Wilfred fans! This is my first try at a Wilfred fanfic, and as long as I get good reviews, I'll keep updating!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter. All credit goes to Jason Gann and Adam Zwar.**

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"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of **darkness**.

It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift."

~Mary Oliver

**Chapter 1**

_Nice to meet you, Darkness._

There was no light. It was the kind of darkness that a man who resides in Los Angeles hardly ever experiences. There were no spots or colors like a person sees on the inside of their eyelids when they close their eyes; only pure, untainted blackness.

A searing pain across his legs.

_No, not just my legs._

Ryan's head, his back, his chest, all ached.

Breaking glass – the sound was stuck on repeat and skipped like a broken record. A scream; it sounded like Ryan's own voice, but higher pitched than he ever remembered himself sounding.

_At least since I turned 14._

A heavily accented voice muttering something in the distance…

_Wilfred!_

'I'mma run with your pan' was the best Ryan could make out from the distant Australian accent, but the voice was so far away, he could not make any sense out of it. Or perhaps it was 'I gave up and ran', or even 'I got fucked with a van'.

_What the hell are you talking about, Wilfred?_

Wilfred's voice gradually became louder, "I'm your number one fan. I'm your number one fan."

Finally there was light. Bright – too intense, and Ryan could not help but squint as he forced his eyes open. As his eyes adjusted, he could begin to make out a furry figure with long ears standing over him, blocking a portion of the light.

"I'm your number one fan."

"Wilfred?" Ryan was surprised by his own voice. His throat and tongue felt extremely dry, and his voice cracked alarmingly.

"Sorry, mate. I had to work in a 'Misery' reference after what happened," Wilfred said with an innocent smile on his face. "I don't need to break your legs to keep you from escaping. You already took care of that."

Ryan's blue eyes widened. "Wh-what? What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Wilfred cocked his head, and concern was written on his face.

"My legs…" Ryan attempted to lift himself up by positioning his arms underneath him, but he did not get far before collapsing back down.

"You might want to just stay still, Ryan. I don't think you want to jack yourself up even further."

Ryan stiffly craned his neck to look past Wilfred and around the small room. He was obviously in a hospital, but how he ended up here was still a complete blank. "How did you get in to a hospital? You're a dog."

"Really? You wake up after three years and _that_ is what you want to know?" Wilfred shook his head and sat back into a folding chair that sat by the bed.

Ryan gasped, which caused him to go into a fit of coughing. Once he caught his breath he stared at his friend. "_Three years_? I've been here for … three years?"

"Maybe more like five. I have no concept of time."

At a loss for words, Ryan looked back up at the ceiling and tried hard to remember something … anything. Jenna entered the room just as his eyes started to drift closed again; presumably whatever was dripping into his veins via the IV attached to his arm was making him incredibly drowsy. Jenna clapped her hands excitedly, which was enough to wake him up some. He glanced towards her and saw her grinning as she approached the bed.

"Ryan!" she cried joyfully, but not without concern in her voice. "You're awake! Let me call a doctor for you." She pressed the red button on a small box attached to a cord that was wrapped around the bed railing. It made a quiet buzzing sound.

Jenna placed a hand on his cheek and smiled down at him. "I'm so glad you're finally awake. I hope Wilfred hasn't been bothering you. The hospital staff only allowed it because you seemed to rest so much better when he was in the room."

Ryan could barely keep his eyes open, but he wanted answers. "Jenna. How long have I been here?"

Jenna frowned, "You-"

_Oh god, it _has_ been years._

Just then a tall middle-aged doctor with a balding head walked in to the room with a pretty blonde nurse at his side. Jenna and Wilfred stepped back to make room beside the bed. The doctor came to his side as the nurse went to check the IV bag. The doctor pulled a stethoscope from his neck and placed the cool diaphragm on Ryan's chest. He listened for a moment, and then put the stethoscope back over his shoulders.

"Well hello, Mr. Newman. Welcome back to the world. You gave us quite a scare there for a while. I'm Dr. Flatline-"

Wilfred chuckled.

"-and I've been taking care of you while you've been here. How are you feeling?"

"I…I'm thirsty."

"Yes. You are receiving fluids and food through your IV. We can't risk giving you free fluids just yet, you may choke. In a couple of days, if you are recovering well, we may be able to try a few ice chips." Dr. Flatline paused. "I know you probably aren't feeling the best, but a week and a half ago when the paramedics wheeled you into the emergency room, you looked a lot worse. How are you feeling, besides thirsty?"

Ryan was busy glaring at Wilfred. "Three years?" he asked incredulously.

Wilfred shrugged. "It felt like it. Never trust a dog when it comes to measuring time, mate."

The doctor stepped back, wondering if he had been heard, and studied Ryan's face. "Three years?" he repeated.

Ryan rolled his eyes, still angry at Wilfred. "Never mind."

Dr. Flatline looked concerned, and his eyes wandered across Ryan's forehead. "Did you hear my question, Ryan?"

Ryan nodded. "I feel…" He didn't know where to start; he just wanted to know why he was here.

"Are you in any pain, Mr. Newman?"

"My legs," Ryan responded quietly.

"That's not surprising. Nurse?" Straight away, the nurse began preparing a large syringe. "We're going to give you something to help with that. It will also make you more tired, and don't resist it. You need rest."

Ryan nodded as the nurse pushed the contents of the syringe into a tube that was already sticking out of his arm. A cool sensation spread from his arm to the rest of his body. Immediately his eyelids felt too heavy to keep open. He wanted to stay awake; he still had questions … so many … questions ….

_Ah, Darkness, my good friend._

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**A/N: Please review if you want more!**_  
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	2. Chapter 2 - Questions

**Okay, I'm back with a second chapter. Sorry if this and the next couple of chapters seem to contain too much filler. There is a lot to fill in, but I will try to add a fair amount of dialogue as well (since that is the best part of the show.) **

**Thanks again to Blunz for your input; it's good to know someone is reading! **

**Oh and by the way, the doctor's name is pronounced Flaht-leen-ay. =)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter. All credit goes to Jason Gann and Adam Zwar.**

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"Your mind will answer most **questions** if you learn to relax and wait for the answer."

~William S. Burroughs

Chapter 2

During the next few days, Ryan only woke for a couple of minutes every few hours. The days and nights blended together, and the drugs the staff fed through his IV kept both his mind and his vision blurry. Wilfred was by his side every time Ryan awoke. Jenna was there often as well. The now familiar faces of Dr. Flatline and some nurses often hovered over him before the darkness beckoned him back in to a deep sleep.

On the fourth day, Ryan woke and for the first time in a long time, he felt his head clear and his thoughts became more lucid.

Wilfred, as always, was in the chair at his bedside. "Good morning, Ryan."

"Yes, good morning," echoed a different, familiar voice on the other side of the room. Ryan turned his head to see a figure standing and facing out of the room's one window. The sun shined brightly into the room, and Ryan squinted his eyes as he tried to make out the owner of the voice.

The figure turned and approached Ryan's side. It was Bruce.

_Oh, God. Not him._

"I-I can't do this right now…" Ryan glanced frightfully at Wilfred.

Wilfred leaned in and smiled gently. "Don't worry. He's not here for any games; only to visit with you."

"You scared us, Ryan," Bruce said.

"I don't remember what happened." Ryan's mouth felt parched, and he desperately wanted a glass of water. Perhaps a couple of gallons.

"You knocked your head pretty good," Bruce explained. "Hopefully the memories will come back to you in time."

"What's the last you remember?" Wilfred asked.

"I don't know, I…" Ryan paused and thought hard. His head began to throb as he tried to recall anything directly before waking up at the hospital. He winced. "I think the last thing I fully remember was … the wedding! Jenna and Drew are married now. And Amanda, I had to turn her into the psych hospital. Oh my god. Poor Amanda!"

"Don't feel sorry for that nut job, Ryan," said Wilfred in a low tone. "She nearly got you jail time."

"Watch who you're calling a nut job, Wilfred. I'm talking to two people who probably aren't even here. Oh, and one isn't even a person." Wilfred glared at him. Bruce smiled as he looked out the window, apparently entertained by the exchange going on in his presence.

_He's probably plotting._

Ryan frowned as memories of the wedding and the night after slowly returned to him. "I remember the picture, the drawing."

Wilfred chuckled. "Evidently you don't remember me admitting to you that I drew that."

"No, I remember. I also recall figuring out that you were lying."

Nodding, Wilfred leaned forward and rested his chin on the bed rail. "Is that all?"

"I think so. That's the last I can remember."

Both Wilfred and Bruce sighed and shook their heads, then shared a meaningful glance between them.

"Can't you just fill me in?" Ryan inquired desperately.

"Sorry, mate." Wilfred looked truly apologetic.

Bruce wandered back over to the window and stared down at the activity four stories below. "We can't just fill you in, because all that this concerns needs to come from within you."

"I thought you weren't here to play games."

Wilfred and Bruce were both silent.

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Meanwhile, outside in the hospital corridor, Jenna stood listening with her ear pressed to the door. She had a soda bottle in her hand that she had just bought from the vending machine down the hallway, and a stick of beef jerky for Wilfred in her other hand.

The voice was quiet, and she couldn't make out anything distinct, but she was sure no one else was in the room, so she knew it belonged to Ryan. Several times before, she had caught Ryan talking to himself – or _at_ Wilfred, Jenna wasn't sure which. And Ryan was on a lot of medications right now; he had been in and out of consciousness every time she visited. Perhaps now he was simply hallucinating.

Jenna worried about him a lot. Now especially, since he had his accident. No matter what was going on in his head, he had never gotten himself this hurt or in this much trouble as long as she had known him. Sure, he did some strange things, like lie to her about the pot candy, but never before had she so badly questioned his state of mind. Not to mention Ryan's sister's thoughts on the accident.

She waited until there was a moment of silence, then knocked lightly and entered the small room. "Hi, Ryan!"

He jumped slightly when he heard her voice. Ryan glanced towards the window as if he expected someone to be there, and then shot a confused glance at Wilfred, then finally looked back at Jenna. "Jenna!"

* * *

"BEEK JERKY!" Wilfred shouted excitedly.

"Calm down, Wilfred." She smiled and approached Ryan's side. "Hi. So … how long have you been awake?"

"Only a few minutes. I actually feel very lucid, is there a doctor around?"

"Why don't you call him?" Jenna gestured towards the call button by his hand.

The mere effort of lifting his arm a little was difficult and painful. His fingers felt stiff as he pressed the button. He smiled shyly up at Jenna. "That was harder than it should have been."

"I bet that's the first time you've been able to say that, huh?" Wilfred added snidely. Ryan shot him a glare but said nothing.

"Beef jerky?" Wilfred questioned as he stared at the package in Jenna's hand. She finally unwrapped the jerky and handed it to Wilfred, who snatched it from her and ran to the corner of the room.

"Jeez Wilfy! How many times do I have to tell you to take things nicely?" Jenna shook her head.

"Just once more," Wilfred said around a mouthful of jerky.

Dr. Flatline walked in a minute later. "Well well Mr. Newman. You are looking much better today."

"I feel more awake than I have for a while. I just had some questions."

The doctor nodded. "Of course."

"You're not going to get the answers you need, Ryan," Wilfred mumbled, but Ryan ignored him.

"How did I get here? What happened to me?"

"You were brought in about two weeks ago by the paramedics after a vehicle … accident," Dr. Flatline began. "Both of your legs are broken – they were crushed by the dashboard. You will need several surgeries and will require a long recovery, but the hospital staff is hopeful that you will be able to walk again."

Ryan looked down, but his battered legs were covered with a bed sheet. He didn't think he could handle seeing them right now anyway.

"You have a range of other smaller injuries: two broken ribs on your left side that we already repaired, but they will be painful for another couple of months at the least. Various other minor scrapes, cuts, and bruises also, but nothing that concerned us as much as your legs or your head injury."

_I guess that explains this stubborn headache._

Ryan glanced at Jenna, who looked sad and even a bit scared hearing the story of his accident again. He smiled at her, which seemed to cheer her up some.

"You hit your head on the windshield when the airbag in your steering wheel failed to deploy. We didn't notice any abnormalities on your CT scan, but some results of traumatic brain injury may not be visible on any scans," The doctor explained.

"Like what?"

"Well, memory loss, for one.**"**

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Memory

**Happy July everyone! Here is the third chapter. Thanks again to Blunz for reviewing. If anyone else is out there enjoying this story, PLEASE review so that I know I have an audience. =)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ryan, Wilfred, Jenna, Kristen, or Catherine. All credit for them goes to Jason Gann and Adam Zwar.**

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"Memory believes before knowing remembers.

Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders."

~William Faulkner

Chapter 3

Ryan nodded slowly. "That explains a lot," he said to the doctor. "I don't even remember why I was in my car … or where I was going. From what information I've gotten it sounds like I don't remember anything after two or three days before the accident."

"That is very common with brain injuries. A majority of the time, the victim eventually remembers some if not all details of the time leading up to the injury. The memory of the accident itself, however, you may never get back."

_Do I want to remember it?_

Ryan thought for a moment. "Did anyone contact my family?"

"Yes. Actually your friend Jenna helped a lot with all of those details. Now I'm going to take some vitals while you're still awake." The doctor got started.

"I don't understand why my airbag didn't deploy. I just had a checkup done on my car a month ago."

Wilfred smiled guiltily. "Yeah, that was my bad. I may have sold it."

Ryan gasped. "You _stole_ my airbag?" he asked as quietly as he could. He still received a questioning glance from the doctor.

"I've got to support my habits somehow. Besides, how was I supposed to know you would need it?"

Ryan shook his head in disbelief. He wanted to kick Wilfred's ass, but could not imagine how he would go about accomplishing such a feat in his current condition.

Jenna stepped forward to Ryan's other side. "I was able to get a hold of your sister."

Ryan sighed, "How was that?"

"Well, she was … very concerned."

Ryan smiled and nodded. He knew the truth was that Kristen had probably given Jenna a long earful about how Ryan's life had been spiraling out of control ever since he quit his job at his father's firm, and that something like this was bound to happen eventually. He loved Kristen, she was his sister. But most of the time she was very difficult to even be around, and it was ridiculous to expect anything sensible to come from her mouth. Since they were children and their mother chose to stay at the psych clinic she had been admitted to, Kristen had taken on the role of 'mother' for Ryan; and she had never stopped.

Jenna continued, "A few days ago, after you woke up for the first time, Kristen brought your mom to visit with you. The nurses had just given you a big dose of pain meds because you weren't resting well that day, so you were unconscious for their visit. They said they will be back as soon as they can. Your dad…"

"Yeah?"

"I let him know what happened. He sends his best."

Ryan nodded. He did not expect anything more.

Dr. Flatline finished his work. "You seem to be doing much better, Mr. Newman. Your blood pressure is one-thirty-one over eighty-three, which is a lot better than yesterday. It was very low, which had us worried. Your heart rate is good, and your temperature is ninety-nine point eight – still too high but not too concerning. You first surgery is scheduled for two weeks from now, as long as you continue to improve. I will send in a nurse in a few minutes to change some of your bandages, and she will let you try some cold water, too."

"That sounds amazing," Ryan nodded that he understood and the doctor exited the room.

Jenna and Ryan smiled at each other. Ryan tried to ignore Wilfred, who was attempting to hump a spare heart monitoring machine that was located in the corner of the room.

"Look," Jenna rested her hands on the bed rail. "I'm so sorry about your dad. I tried to get him to come visit, but—"

"Don't … apologize. Please." Ryan placed a hand with effort on hers. "You've already helped out so much while I've been here. You didn't have to call everyone, Jenna. You have gone above and beyond what you needed to do, and I remember seeing you here almost every time I've woken up. I don't know how to even begin to thank you."

Jenna smiled and her eyes fell to his hand on her own. Ryan almost thought he saw her blush slightly.

A moment later, a nurse entered the room and Ryan felt Jenna jump a little, then she quickly pulled her hand from under his. "I'll just take Wilfred outside. Come here, Wilfred," she said, and Wilfred followed her out, mouthing 'sorry' at Ryan as he left the room. Ryan rolled his eyes.

_Sorry my ass. I wonder what else he's stolen from me to sell for weed money._

The nurse was an attractive brunette with green eyes dressed in pink scrubs. She smiled politely at Ryan. "I'm Hannah. I'm going to be changing the bandage on your forehead, as well as the ones on your legs. Would you like to try some water?"

"Yes, please."

Hannah drew a small amount of water from the hand-washing sink into a paper cup and handed it to him. His grip was weak, and she helped him guide the cup to his lips. The cool water on his tongue and throat felt wonderful, and he had the cup empty in a matter of seconds. She put the cup into a trash bin.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could let you have more, but we need to make sure that your stomach can hold liquids before we give you too much by mouth. I'm going to change your bandages now if you don't mind. Just lay back and I will try to make the process as quick and pain-free as possible."

Ryan nodded. He was nervous; he had not seen the damage to his legs yet, and was not sure that he wanted to.

Hannah tended to the bandage on his forehead first. It was extremely uncomfortable; the bandage pulled at the skin around the wound as the nurse carefully removed the old tape. She cleaned out the wound with an antiseptic, which stung slightly. Once the new bandage and tape were applied, a small headache remained, but any exterior pain had dulled.

The nurse pulled down the sheet that was covering Ryan's lower body, and he grimaced. Most of his legs were covered in bandages, and on the areas that were not, the skin was black and blue and many other shades that skin probably should not be. As she began to unwrap the old bandages, Ryan decided he had seen enough and laid back onto the pillows. He gritted his teeth at the pain that simply removing the bandages caused, and as the nurse got down to the bottom layer closest to his skin, it took all of his strength not to cry out.

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**Want to read more? REVIEW PLEASE! **


	4. Chapter 4 - Complicated

**Alright, I'm back with a fourth chapter. To my only reviewer as of yet Blunz: I can't thank you enough for your loyalty!**

**If anyone else is reading, please review and let me know!**

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"Sometimes the questions are **complicated** and the answers are simple." ~Dr. Suess

Chapter 4

The next few weeks passed quickly. Ryan required less pain medication, which meant that he was awake and aware a lot more than before. Jenna visited every day after she left work. Wilfred no longer stayed with Ryan all day and night (the hospital staff no longer allowed it since Ryan was doing better), but he did visit whenever Jenna did. Ryan missed Wilfred's company. As much as he got on his nerves sometimes, Ryan had grown quite accustomed to having him around.

Drew also visited a couple of times, and although Ryan liked Drew, he found himself breathing a sigh of relief after he left. Drew's loud voice, annoying nick-names, and consistently hyped up energy were just too much for Ryan, especially in his current state.

Kristen called to check on him several times. She made plans to visit after Ryan's first surgery. His mother Catherine also phoned every few days. She constantly advised that he breathe deeply and draw from the earth's energy to help him in his recovery. He humored her and assured her that he would.

The memories of the days leading up to Ryan's accident remained evasive, and he did not get very much time alone with Wilfred to try to force answers from him. Bruce did not visit after the first time either; something Ryan was grateful for. It was extremely difficult to relax and let down one's guard while in the presence of Bruce.

Ryan's first surgery took place on the fourth Saturday since his accident. It was only for his right leg, which needed a steel pin drilled through his upper leg to keep his femur together. There was also some damaged skin that needed to be removed located around the lacerations caused by the car's dashboard. Ryan was anesthetized for the entire duration of the surgery, for which he was very thankful.

A physical therapist came to his room every day after lunch to help Ryan with his arm exercises. Dr. Flatline said he needed to build his arm strength since he would be in a wheelchair for at least a couple of months until he could attempt to learn how to walk again. He quickly gained back full strength in his arms.

The Thursday after the first surgery, Ryan was watching television in his room with Wilfred, who Jenna had dropped off after work before running a few errands. She did not want to take advantage of Ryan by leaving Wilfred with him (ever since admitting she used Ryan and apologizing, she had been much more reluctant to have him watch Wilfred). But Ryan insisted that he needed the company.

"It's just not the same," Wilfred complained during a commercial break. The hospital had only basic cable, and unfortunately there was nothing on that starred Matt Damon. They had managed to find the movie 'Tremors', which was much more bearable than the soap operas and reality shows airing on all of the other channels. Hospitals weren't known for their wide array of television stations.

"What isn't?" Ryan asked. He was sipping on a juice box that the nurse, Hannah had given him. His stomach had proved its ability to keep down liquids and solid foods, and he was nearly back on a normal diet. An IV remained in his arm for medications and extra fluids, however. He couldn't wait to be rid of it.

"Hanging out with you and watching television without being high. You're a bore."

"Oh." Ryan adjusted his bed almost to a sitting position and stretched as much as he could in its confines. "I need to get out of this bed, Wilfred."

"You need to quit being lazy."

"I'm not being lazy, Wilfred. My legs are broken."

"Well, pull yourself around with your front legs, that's what I would do."

"I don't have front legs."

Wilfred pointed at Ryan's arms. "What are those?"

Ryan stared at him. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Wilfred was actually a dog, seeing how he appeared to Ryan as a man with scruffy facial hair in a dog costume. But times like these it reminded Ryan that he definitely was not talking to another human being. "These are arms. And I can't just drag myself around on the floor with them."

"Why the hell not?"

"Well, because-" Ryan paused.

_I totally could._

"Because floors are dirty. I need to wait until they let me use a wheelchair," he concluded.

"That's a shit answer and you know it, Ryan."

Ryan did know it.

There was a knock on the door, and Kristen entered. "Oh, Wilfred's here. Yay!" she said sarcastically.

"Why, I'm doing just fine. Thank you for asking, Kristen," Wilfred chimed in.

"Hi Kristen," Ryan greeted her, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt.

"Hi Ryan. How are you?" There was a faint shadow of worry as Kristen looked her brother over, but as always she pushed any signs of weakness away as soon as they showed themselves.

"I'm doing all right. The doctor said that my surgery went well."

Kristen nodded. "Oh, good. Look, Geoffrey and I have been stopping by and keeping an eye on your house. You're lucky you had some money saved up from that joke of job at the research facility, it has been helping to paying your mortgage. Your car is totaled – the insurance company will replace it, though."

Ryan's car was the last thing on his mind, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing it wouldn't do him any good speak up. "Thanks."

"Yeah, you owe me."

_Has there ever been a time I haven't owed you for something, Kristen?_

There was a long silence as neither of the siblings knew what to say, and thankfully, Wilfred was quiet as well.

"Look, Ryan. I know you're on this whole self-destructive streak now, but you really need to stop only thinking about yourself."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, maybe you had the right idea months ago with those pills. At least you were keeping it in your own house."

"What a bitch!" Wilfred exclaimed, not for the first time.

"Kristen," Ryan began, attempting to stay calm. He kept telling himself that this was Kristen's way of dealing with stressful situations – she would lash out for a while, make him feel like shit, then eventually she would apologize and she would be tolerable for a while. "I've moved past that. It wasn't really a … streak."

"Yeah, well. That's what you said before your … accident." She occupied herself by organizing some flowers and cards Catherine had had sent to the hospital. They sat on the table by Ryan's bed, and were not exactly in need of organizing.

"She thinks you were trying to off yourself again, mate," Wilfred added.

"What?" Ryan asked, shocked.

"You know, the accident. No other cars were involved. You were speeding down an isolated road at a high rate of speed, and alcohol was not involved." Wilfred obviously knew details of the accident that Ryan did not, and this frustrated Ryan to no end that he could not get any real answers out of him.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself … was I?" he asked quietly, under his breath.

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**I will update ASAP. I'm going to a music festival this weekend, but I should be able to put something up next week!**


	5. Chapter 5 - Condition

**Okay peeps I know this chapter is a bit dark, but the recovery will be long, and we already know Ryan has issues with depression.**

**I promise we'll get back to the main point of the story (why Ryan crashed the car) soon. Just gotta wait until he's out of the hospital.**

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"Doubt is not a pleasant **condition**,

but certainty is absurd." -Voltaire

Chapter 5

"Who are you talking to, Ryan?" Kristen asked. She had turned away from the gifts from their mother and was staring at him, brow furrowed, puzzled.

"Nobody. I . . . you . . ." Ryan took a deep breath, attempting to organize his thoughts. "You think the accident was a way for me to commit suicide?"

"Well, wasn't it?"

"No! I mean, I don't think so. I don't remember a lot."

Kristen nodded slowly. "There was a police investigation. When you wouldn't wake up at first, and we weren't sure you were going to make it, the cops were ready to rule it a suicide."

"I don't think that's what I was doing. I wish I could remember more."

Kristen nodded. She did not look convinced, as if she believed Ryan was making up his memory loss. "Well, after what happened with that schizo girlfriend of yours, it wouldn't surprise me if you were back in that state of mind."

"Amanda isn't a schizo. She just needs some help. She thought she was doing the best thing for . . . us." Ryan's heart sank as he once again remembered the events of that night. He had loved Amanda, and it hurt him so much to have to turn her over to the authorities; but surely not as much as it had hurt her. Besides that, Ryan did not like thinking about Amanda because it made him question every time what the real difference was between she and him. He needed to change the subject. "So how is Geoffrey?"

A genuine smile spread across Kristen's face, probably because she loved to talk about her son, but also because she loved when Ryan thought to ask about him. "He is growing so fast, Ryan. I can't wait for him to see his uncle again."

Ryan smiled as well. "I miss the little guy."

"I'll bring him to visit once you're feeling better."

The siblings chatted for a bit longer. Thankfully, Kristen didn't bring up the accident again, and Ryan was careful to keep the conversation consistently steered toward Kristen, her life, and Geoffrey. She left while their conversation was still pleasant, for which Ryan was appreciative.

Jenna arrived to pick up Wilfred about a half hour after Kristen left.

"Thank you so much for watching him, Ryan." Jenna smiled gratefully as she pet Wilfred, greeting him.

"It's really not a problem. Most of the time he's not too much of an asshole."

Jenna laughed.

"Suck my dick, Ryan," Wilfred snapped. He pressed his face in between Jenna's breasts.

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Well, that escalated quickly."

"What did?" Jenna asked Ryan, then she giggled as Wilfred 'greeted' her. "Wilfred, stop!"

"Um … nothing."

"Be careful, Ryan. People might start to think you're crazy," Wilfred mocked. He still had his face pressed against Jenna's chest, and Ryan tried to push away a pang of jealousy. He had bigger things to worry about other than being envious of a dog.

* * *

A week later, physical therapy began on his right leg, in addition to his arms and torso. The therapy on his leg began with the manual movement of the muscle groups by the therapists. The intention was to get his joints used to bending again, especially with the addition of the metal in his femur. Ryan was still too weak to move his legs by himself. His left leg was still mostly covered in a cast, anyway.

The therapy was extremely painful, and Ryan dreaded lunch time every day, because he knew the therapist would enter the room shortly after. He would still need at least one more surgery in his right leg, and two or three in his left. His next surgery was scheduled for only a week after the first, and was a success according to the team of surgeons that had his case. To Ryan, it seemed that each surgery only caused more pain.

As the weeks went by, Ryan's thoughts became darker. He did not see an end in sight – the surgeries and recovery were taking too long to keep his hopes up. And he still had learning to walk again to look forward to; which Dr. Flatline expected to be the most painful part of his recovery.

Wilfred seemed to notice Ryan's decreasing spirits, for he stopped being so hard on him (i.e. telling him he was being lazy). Whenever he visited with Jenna, Wilfred tried his hardest to to make Ryan laugh, or at least smile. He seemed worried that it was becoming more and more difficult.

One day, only a few hours after Ryan's fourth (and hopefully last) surgery, Jenna brought Wilfred to visit for a few minutes.

* * *

Jenna knew that currently, Ryan had a total of three steel pins in his legs; one in his right and two in his left. X-rays were done nearly daily to check that the bone was healing correctly around the pins. If it did not continue to heal, additional surgeries would be necessary. She also had noticed Ryan's mood darken, and was concerned for him.

She entered the recovery room with Wilfred and studied Ryan. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was awake due to his irregular breathing. "Hi, Ryan," she said quietly.

His eyes opened and he turned his head slowly to look over at her. The corner of his mouth quivered as if he wanted to smile, but it was as if it would have taken more energy than he could spare.

Jenna was concerned over how Ryan looked. He was pale; almost translucent. Although he had been eating regularly supplied meals at the hospital, he was thinner than she had ever seen him. And since Ryan already had a small build, the contrast frightened her.

Ryan's voice cracked when he spoke, and he sounded exhausted. He was still in a vertical laying position from the surgery, and she moved closer to the bed to make it easier for him to see her, and in order to hear him better. "Sorry if I'm not too talkative. This last operation really took it out of me. I'm glad you guys came though."

Jenna pulled up a chair as close to Ryan's side as she could and took a seat. Wilfred stood next to her, silently looking at Ryan with a somber look.

"You're almost done, Ryan." Jenna tried to smile. "Soon you'll be all better."

"I know," Ryan did not sound convinced but he nodded slightly in agreement.

Jenna reached through the bed rails and gently squeezed Ryan's hand. A half smile finally crossed his face. Soon, Wilfred had added his paw solemnly to the two entwined hands.

The rest of the visit was spent mostly in silence, but it was a comfortable kind of silence. Jenna held Ryan's hand the entire time.

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**As always, review please. I'm thinking of waiting a few weeks to post another chapter, and only send new chapters to Blunz since they review =) Maybe that will make others review! Either way I'm glad you're reading, but tell me how I'm doing!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Motion

**Hi folks, back again with a sixth chapter. As always, thanks to Blunz for your faithfulness. **

**Disclaimer: Except for the hospital staff, no characters belong to me. You can thank Jason Gann and Adam Zwar's genius for them all.**

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"Our nature consists in **motion**;

complete rest is death."

~Blaise Pascal

Chapter 6

That last surgery had been the hard to recover from; even his medical team had begun to worry about him when, for the first few days he had been dull, listless; he slept more than he should have needed. It had eventually been decided that his problem was most likely mental rather than physical. It was a common issue that the staff encountered with patients with a long recovery ahead of them. People tended to lose hope, to stop trying; especially ones who had issues with anxiety and depression in the past.

But about a week after his surgery, he had begun to show signs of improvement. He seemed to get back some of his good humor, and his spirits rose significantly. It seemed that he was back on track.

Three weeks later, it was finally time to try out a wheelchair. During his stay at the hospital, he had been moved back and forth between three different rooms, but all of them looked the same, and the scenery was getting unbearably boring. He wanted terribly to be able to go somewhere, _anywhere_, of his own accord.

Present for the big day were Jenna, Drew, Wilfred, Catherine, Kristen, and Geoffrey. Ryan did not need, nor did he desire a large audience, but he did not have the heart to tell them to bug off, as Wilfred suggested. They had all been so supportive during his stay, and they only wanted to be there for his liberation from the confines of his hospital bed.

Catherine was obviously heavily medicated, but her eyes were filled with pride for her youngest child. She had been nothing but positive during his recovery, and although the process of forgiveness would be long, Ryan was finding it easier to be able to see past her absence during his childhood.

The chair that the nurse, Hannah, wheeled in to the room was small and simplistic. She smiled as Ryan observed it, "I know it's not much, but it will do the job. And the fact that it's simple makes it a lot lighter and easier to handle."

"It's perfect." Ryan returned Hannah's smile. Over the weeks the two had become closer than he was to any of the other nurses, almost friends. Ryan had not told anyone that he found her quite attractive and sweet.

_I'm sure she's like that with all her patients._

_And I bet a lot of _them_ have dumb little schoolboy crushes on her, too._

He still secretly desired for Jenna, even if he did not want to realize it himself. But Jenna was married now, and if Ryan did not move on soon, he may be lulled back into that dark depression.

Wilfred knew – as he always knew things Ryan thought he kept secret. His face looked innocent enough as he watched the interaction between the brown haired, green-eyed girl and Ryan, but Wilfred's eyes and his slight smirk said plenty. Ryan put a finger to his lips and silently hushed his friend. Wilfred threw up his hands (or front paws) and raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'What?'. Ryan narrowed his eyes; he knew Wilfred's thoughts were never innocent.

Kristen, Jenna, and the rest of Ryan's visitors grouped into a corner of the small room to try to keep out of the way as Dr. Flatline and a male nurse (Ryan knew him as Jonathon; he had helped Ryan several times during his stay) entered to guide Ryan through the process.

Jonathon had helped Ryan dress earlier in dark blue sweats and a white t-shirt. Nothing fancy – but at least it covered much more than the hospital gowns that had been his main attire lately.

Any IV's had been removed shortly after his last surgery, and Ryan was finally receiving all of his fluids, foods, and medicines orally. The catheter had been removed as well, and now the only embarrassment he had to worry about now was asking for a bed pan whenever he needed to go, and having to be cleaned up by a nurse. Fortunately, sponge baths and bathroom needs had primarily been handled by male staff – Hannah and other lady nurses dealt with the changing of bandages, assistance in physical therapy, and other less private needs. He knew it was her job, but for some reason Ryan preferred not to have Hannah help with those more embarrassing matters.

Dr. Flatline lowered the railing on the outer side of Ryan's bed. He removed the thin sheet that was covering Ryan's legs and adjusted the bed to a full sitting position as as the male nurse, Jonathon, moved any tables, chairs, and machinery to the other side of the room, out of the way.

"Okay, Mr. Newman-"

Ryan had asked the doctor several times to please address him by his first name. 'Mr. Newman' reminded him more of his father than he preferred. But the doctor's manners must have been too well engraved – he continuously forgot his request, and Ryan was tired of asking, so he had given in.

"-we're going to do this slowly, so do not feel rushed. If you need to take a break, just let us know. We will help you as much as we can, but we'll need your help too; whatever you can do to help with your hands and arms."

Ryan nodded. He tried to ignore the fact that there were four adults, a baby, and a dog counting on him and staring nervously – a task that was made more difficult by Drew shouting, "You can do it, _Ry_ bread!"

Ryan smiled politely at Drew, "Thanks." He was fairly sure that Drew had used that nickname before; he must be running out of material.

Hannah wheeled the chair closer to the bed, removed the foot rests, and set the brakes. Then she went to Ryan's other side to observe and help if she needed to. She placed a reassuring hand on Ryan's right shoulder.

"Are you ready?" the doctor asked.

"As ready as I'm going to be."

The process was uncomfortable, and extremely painful at some points. Jonathon lifted and positioned his legs, and the doctor helped with Ryan's torso. Although the therapists had been working daily with his legs, it was still extremely painful to have them moved, bent, and manipulated. Ryan flinched several times and breathed sharply through his teeth. He tried not to look up at his audience to see their reaction.

When he was finally in the chair, Hannah went around the bed to position his legs into the footrests. Ryan was short of breath, which he did not understand. He had barely done anything on his own. He tried to breathe slowly; calmly, and not show his family and friends he was weak. Hannah must have noticed he was biting his lip – she bent down close to him after fixing the footrests and whispered "Are you okay?"

Ryan nodded and tried to fix his face.

The doctor asked, "How does it feel?"

Ryan smiled as best he could. "It's different. It's . . . great."

Hannah unlocked the chair's brakes, then wheeled him into the nearly empty hallway of the recovery unit. Dr. Flatline, Jonathon, and the rest of Ryan's audience followed anxiously.

"Well, try it out!" Hannah prompted.

It was easier to control the chair than Ryan had expected. The physical therapy had more than prepared his arms for the rigorous job of pushing, turning, and stopping the large rear wheels. It was nice to be up and in motion. He rolled himself up and down the hallway three times, his audience clapping and cheering, before the doctor advised that it was enough for now, and Ryan should get some rest.

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**Reviews please!**


	7. Chapter 7 - Normal

**Here's chapter 7. =)**

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**"I didn't want normal**

** until I didn't have it anymore." **

**~Maggie Stiefvater**

Chapter 7

Everything slowly became easier as the days went by. Ryan learned to transfer himself from the bed to his chair and back. Also, he could now dress himself and get himself to the bathroom. It was so liberating to have some of his independence back.

Ryan was scheduled to return to his home two weeks after he received his wheelchair. He had been in the hospital for more than four months. Kristen persisted that Ryan stay with her and Geoffrey for a time, while he got back onto his feet (literally and figuratively), but Ryan politely rejected her offer. She continued to insist, and Ryan finally had to nearly yell at her to stop her from talking about it. He felt bad, and he knew she was only trying to help, but Ryan desperately needed to continue regaining his independence. Living with his controlling older sister was obviously not the next step in his recovery.

He had to deal with several guilt-trips, but Kristen finally let up about it. If she had given in without guilt-trips, Ryan would have been concerned for her well-being.

He moved back into his home during a steaming California Tuesday near the end of July. Kristen was at work, but Jenna, Drew, and Wilfred were all present to help him. All he brought from his room at the hospital were several get-well cards from his mother (all with cats and/or kittens looking adorable on the cover). He did not feel the need to keep any other "souvenirs" from that place.

His house was how he remembered, except there had been a ramp installed onto the front porch (Drew's handiwork). Also, a few days before the move, Kristen and Jenna had pulled out the couch mattress and and set up the living to act as his bedroom for the time being. Handlebars had been set up around the toilet, and a shower chair had been installed in the main floor bathroom.

Jenna, Drew, Wilfred, and Ryan were in the living room/bedroom looking over the new arrangements. Wilfred was dozing, stretched out on the couch mattress. Ryan sat in his chair, and Jenna and Drew stood with their arms crossed, not sure what to do next. They were obviously apprehensive to leave Ryan alone by himself.

Ryan nodded again as he observed the job his friends and sister had done for him. "Thanks again for all of your help, guys. You've really made this an easy transition for me."

Drew grinned, and Ryan sensed a terrible nickname about to spill from his mouth. Ryan interrupted before Drew could say a word. "Don't worry about me." He had seen the look of concern on Jenna's face.

"I'm not worried," she lied at first, then smiled shyly and shook her head. "Okay, maybe a little. What if something happens, if you fall? I wish you had let Kristen help you out for a while."

Ryan smiled. "I'll be okay. And as terrible as it sounds, Kristen is the last person I need around me twenty-four-seven right now."

Jenna and Drew nodded in realization, still smiling. "We can understand that."

"But look," Drew placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you ever need anything bro, one of us is usually nearby. Just call our cells."

"Will do." Ryan looked past the couple and watched as Wilfred rolled over in his sleep, grumbled, exposed his balls, twitched, and farted. "Besides, Wilfred will be here to help me out, too."

"Remember that you don't have to watch Wilfy at all. And if you need to get rid of him, just send him home," Jenna said.

"I'll keep that in mind. We shouldn't have any problems though, Wilfred's a good buddy. I'll enjoy his company."

Jenna and Drew, who were closer to Wilfred than Ryan, suddenly started fanning their faces. "Oh, god!"

"Wilfred!" Drew pulled the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth. "So sick!"

Ryan laughed. Normally, he would have disapproved of Wilfred farting in his house (let alone in his bed), but finally being able to live in his own house, and getting out of the hospital had him in a cheerful and forgiving state of mind.

A few minutes later, Jenna and Drew had finally left, and Wilfred was awake from his nap.

"What are you waiting for, Ryan? Let's get high!" Wilfred headed toward the small hallway where the basement door was located. Ryan followed and they stopped outside the closed door.

Ryan sighed, "We'll have to move the party to the main floor." He patted the arm of his wheelchair.

"But Ryan!" Wilfred wined. "We always get high in the basement. And it's been so long!"

"You'll be okay, Wilfred."

"But RYAN!" Wilfred ran to the kitchen, and returned with two steak knives.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm not going to let you destroy my good time." He began to run the blades of the knives up and down the painted, solid cherry wood door.

"Wilfred stop!"

The scratching continued. The knives against the door were, of course, leaving scratch marks, and the sound was almost like nails on a chalkboard.

Ryan winced. "Wilfred, STOP!"

"I wanna get highhh . . ."

"We can! Just . . . just stop destroying my door. Unless you want to get sent home to Jenna."

Wilfred halted his scratching, turned towards Ryan and narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't," he said though his teeth.

"Wouldn't I?"

Turning back to the door, Wilfred continued to make more scratches.

"Fine," Ryan wheeled himself to the house phone in the living room and picked it up, pretending to dial Jenna's number. "It's ringing. I'm going to have her come and get you."

"NO!" Wilfred shouted. He tossed the knives, dashed over, and smacked the phone away from Ryan's ear. Ryan amusedly watched it bounce across the hard floor and surprisingly not break or lose its batteries. "Okay, okay." Wilfred took a deep breath and relented. Ryan raised his eyebrows and gestured toward the hall. Wilfred obediently crossed the room and picked up the knives from the floor, returning them to their drawer in the kitchen. While he was occupied with this, Ryan retrieved the phone and put it back on its charger.

Wilfred retrieved his bag of things Jenna had brought over from by the front door. He pulled out their trusty old Gatorade water bong, a baggie, and a lighter. "I suppose . . . if you're going to be such a dick about it, we can just get high in the living room."

Ryan smiled. Strangely, he had missed this constant conflict. "Good."

* * *

**15 minutes later**

The living room was filled with smoke, the delectable bubbling from inside the bong, and the flicking sound of the lighter every couple of minutes. Ryan's head was spinning.

"So I've totally gotten in to Breaking Bad while you've been at the hospital," Wilfred was saying. He passed the bottle to Ryan. "It's probably my favorite Matt Damon role."

Ryan took a long hit then looked quizzically at his furry friend. "Matt Damon? I don't think he's on that show."

"Yes he is."

"No, I don't really watch it, but I think you're wrong."

Wilfred laughed. "I'm not wrong! I _know_ Matt Damon. He plays Todd."

"No," Ryan was giggling, "That's not Matt Damon. It's some other guy. He's like 20 years younger than Damon."

"What? No . . ." Wilfred's smile faltered. "That's impossible. You're fucking with me."

"I'm not fucking with you Wilfred, I promise. It's some other guy." Ryan leaned back on the couch and slowly exhaled. Smoke dispersed into a cloud that slightly resembled a gray dog. He giggled some more. "It's not Matt Damon."

"Well that's –" Wilfred suddenly gasped and looked completely devastated. "That's – oh my god. If it's not Matt Damon that means . . . that means that show blows!"

Ryan burst out laughing and could not stop for a good five minutes, all the while Wilfred stared at him, looking like his world had been stolen from under him.

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**Review and follow if you enjoy! Thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8 - Decisions

**Soooo sorry for the delay folks! If you're reading this then you're a true fan of this story and I thank you for being so patient. My laptop is currently out of commission and it took me a while to get the files I needed off of the hard drive. Hopefully I'll be able to update more often now ... but I still miss my computer!**

"All our final **decisions** are made in a state of mind

that is not going to last." ~Marcel Proust

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Chapter 8

Ryan had a decision to make. Wilfred was outside in the back yard, and Ryan sat in his wheelchair staring at the telephone in his kitchen. An argument was raging in his head.

He had exhausted his savings. His mortgage was due in a week, and his medical bill the week after. Not to mention utilities, car insurance, phone, cable, groceries . . . the list seemed never-ending. The money he had saved from his job at the research facility had lasted him until now, but his bank accounts were dried up and it would be a while before the doctors allowed him to go back to work. He had two options: miss some payments and most likely get kicked out on the street, or – ask for help. In his mind those two were equally unspeakable.

The most obvious choice for financial assistance – his rich father – was, at the same time, completely out of the question. There was no doubt he would lend Ryan the money he needed, but he would also find a way to hold it over Ryan's head like a dog with a bone. Ryan did not feel like doing any tricks.

_I'm best at 'sit' lately._

Ryan's mother was also not an option. Catherine had no savings, and her living at the institute was still being covered by her ex-husband's alimony. She was a very independent-minded lady, but she still had no problem with using the extra funds that Ryan's father was ordered to give her by the court.

Then, there was Kristen. He knew she had plenty of savings, and she still had a great paying job. The problem was, he knew it was a good bet that she was waiting for her brother to call and ask for help, and she had a tendency of holding things over his head as well.

Ryan sighed and put his face into his hands. He had a headache.

Jenna and Drew had offered to help him out several times, financially or otherwise. But his opinion of Jenna was so high that it would kill his pride to accept money from her.

_What's left of my pride, anyway._

He removed his hands from his face and glared at the telephone some more, as if the phone would solve his problems for him if only he were patient enough.

"It's inanimate, Ryan."

Ryan jumped, gasped, and looked behind him to the origin of the voice. "Jesus, Wilfred! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Did you hear me?" Wilfred approached and studied the phone as well.

"About the phone being inanimate? Yes, I know that. But you're a dog, and you talk to me, get high with me, and look like . . . well, not a dog."

"You think the phone isn't really a phone?"

"No. I don't know. I'm not sure what to do, Wilfred."

Wilfred shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? You'll have to whore yourself out to a bunch of chicks with a wheelchair fetish."

"What? No. I'm not doing that."

"Well then, I guess you have to call Kristen."

"She'll always hold it over me."

"Yes, she will. But she's the lesser of the two evils, isn't she?"

"I know." Ryan began to reach for the handset, then stopped and studied Wilfred. "When will you fill in the blanks in my memory from right before the accident? I know you can."

"Of course I can. The answers will come to you in time. But that's not what is important right now," Wilfred nodded towards the phone and raised his eyebrows at Ryan.

Ryan sighed and shook his head. Damned vague mutt. He finally dialed Kristen's number.

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**One Week Later**

Ryan's basement house phone rang. He passed the bong to Wilfred and answered it, "Hello?"

"Hi, Ryan? Ryan Newman?" It was a woman's voice. It was slightly familiar.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you. This is Hannah."

"Hannah?"

"The nurse from the hospital?"

"Oh!"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Ryan realized he was still holding the smoke in his lungs from his last hit. He let it out explosively. "No! I'm sorry. You're not interrupting anything. H-How are you?" Wilfred observed him, clearly entertained.

"I'm great!" Hannah replied. "Look, I hope this isn't too weird. I just wanted to . . . to check on you I guess. How are you doing?"

"I'm going good. Really getting used to this wheelchair."

"Good! Good . . . well . . . hey, I'll give you my cellphone number in case you need anything."

"Oh, okay." Ryan felt extremely awkward. Hannah was probably the last person he had expected to hear from. "Are you using it now? I have caller ID."

"Yes. So I guess you have my number now?"

"I do."

"Great. Well, have a good day! And call me if you need . . . anything." Hannah sounded like she wanted to say more, but ended with that.

"Will do," Ryan confirmed.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Well, bye!"

"Bye!" Ryan pressed the button to terminate the call. He set the handset down, then looked to Wilfred.

Wilfred was smiling and shaking his head. "You blew it, man."

"Blew what?" Ryan was still baffled from the surprise phone call.

"Your chance with Hannah, dude. She obviously wanted you to ask her out."

"You heard her?"

"I've got great hearing."

"She was just checking on me," Ryan said.

"Right. And that squirrel I bit the head off of this morning died of old age."

Ryan gave Wilfred a look of disgust, but decided to let that last comment slide. "Look, you don't know that she wanted that. Why wouldn't she just ask me herself?"

"I don't know, probably something to do with that doctor-patient-relationship shit."

"Well I have her phone number . . . if that's what she really wanted. Which I highly doubt."

"I'm telling you man, that was it." Wilfred took a final hit off the bong and set it onto the coffee table. He apparently decided to let the Hannah issue go, because the next time he spoke it had nothing to do with her or Ryan. "That squirrel's ass was delicious, by the way."


End file.
